


What Dreams May Come

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-04
Updated: 2006-07-04
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam gets inside Dean's mind. And his body. A lot. Also, this is a companion piece to my Dean POV, In Dreams He Came.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** What Dreams May Come  
**Author:** [ ](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/profile)[**keepaofthecheez**](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/)  
**Characters:** Sam/Dean, Sam POV  
**Rating:** NC-17 for language and incest.  
**Category:** Wincest, slash  
**Word Count:** 5,362  
**Spoilers:** Let’s say up to 1.07, just to be safe. Also, this is a companion piece to my Dean POV, [ In Dreams He Came](http://community.livejournal.com/sn_slash/258189.html), so you might want to read that first. Capiche?  
**Disclaimer:** I don’t own the boys, they own me.   
**Summary:** Sam gets inside Dean’s mind. And his body. A lot.  
**Notes:** I listened to a lot of Foghat while writing this. In particular, _Slow Ride_. Heh, I dunno if that matters… Also, as stated before, this is a sequel-ish/companion piece to another work of fiction I wrote. You could probably read this as a stand-alone, but I’d suggest reading Dean’s POV first. You can find it [ here](http://community.livejournal.com/sn_slash/258189.html). Thanks to my beta [ ](http://rachel-shanz.livejournal.com/profile)[**rachel_shanz**](http://rachel-shanz.livejournal.com/)!  
  
  
  
_Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man  
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man  
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming  
I can hear them say…   
~Kansas_  
  
  
  
“I can’t believe you _tranqued_ me!”  
  
Sam glanced across the darkened Impala, studying Dean’s profile sheepishly. His brother’s expression bore traces of affront and accusation, but he didn’t appear half as livid as Sam would have expected. As Sam would have been, had their positions been reversed. He stared out the window as road signs passed by, signaling their approach to a new destination. He cleared his throat, toying with a grease-stained cheeseburger wrapper and risked another glance across the car.   
  
“Yeah, about that, Dean…”  
  
“Sleeping pill, my ass,” Dean continued, making a sharp left turn that would have sent Sam sprawling had he not been wearing a seatbelt. “You _used_ me, Sam. Plain and simple.”  
  
“You agreed,” Sam interjected quickly, and then had to wince when Dean glared over at him through slitted eyes. “Okay, so you didn’t exactly agree to the tranq…but I had to make sure you were under, Dean. That there was no way that demon would—”  
  
“Yeah, explain that to me, Sammy. Why was there even a question that the damn thing would possess me? It’s not like _you_ were knocked out, too. Who the hell else would it come after? And why didn’t I ask that _before_? Jesus.” Dean made a face and slapped himself in the forehead. Sam might have laughed, but it wasn’t a particularly comical moment.  
  
“Because you were overcome by my intelligent plan?” he ventured lamely, anticipating the sour look Dean tossed at him.  
  
“Oh, fuck _you_ , very much,” Dean grumbled. Sam waited patiently for him to finish expelling colorful oaths beneath his breath, then half-turned in his seat to face his brother. Dean shot him a look, then returned his gaze to the windshield, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.  
  
“Look, we can’t stop now,” Sam pointed out, ignoring the snort that came from Dean’s direction. “It obviously worked…you were visited…”  
  
Dean’s expression changed, just slightly, but enough to intrigue Sam nonetheless. Upon his initial waking after the demon’s indwelling, Dean had seemed all too ready to share his experience with Sam. But it hadn’t taken long at all for him to close up and refuse to mention whatever he’d experienced, and Sam was equal parts concerned and fascinated. It wasn’t like Dean to shut up. About _anything_.   
  
“If you’re trying to suggest that I serve myself up on a silver platter for this thing again…” Dean began in a warning tone, and Sam bit back a sigh and prepared to deny that that was _exactly_ what he’d planned to ask, when Dean continued, “…then, fine.”  
  
The words died in Sam’s throat. He stared at Dean. “What?”  
  
Dean glanced over and scowled. “What?” he mocked, eyes flicking between Sam and the road. “What do you mean, _what?_ ”  
  
“I mean…” Sam trailed off with a shrug, still eyeing his brother curiously. “Five minutes ago you were pissed off that I’d used you, Dean. And now you want me to use you again?”  
  
A strange expression crossed Dean’s features, and he shifted in the driver’s seat, almost painfully. “Well, you wouldn’t exactly be using me if I suggested it now, would you, College Boy?” he snarked, but there was no real heat behind the words.   
  
Sam continued gazing at him, trying to read beneath the closed off features as to what Dean was _really_ thinking. “So, for the record…you’re offering to do this?” he drawled, no longer paying attention to the route the Impala was taking. “No frills this time. I tranq you, you go under, you play kissy-face with a demon…”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Sam. You sound like…well, me,” Dean muttered. “And _yes_ , I said I’m fine with it. Goddamn. Do you want a pact signed in blood?”  
  
“Those don’t really work, you know,” Sam pointed out absently. “All they really do is mark the bearer as—”  
  
“Sam? Shut the fuck up.”  
  
The two stared at one another for a long moment, mixed emotions coloring their features. Dean was the first to look away with a curse, jaw locked and gaze settling almost determinedly on the road. Sam wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but it obviously had to do with whatever had happened two nights ago. He reached across the short expanse that separated him from Dean, and his brother jumped like he’d sat on a live wire.   
  
The Impala jerked, tires squealing as Dean maneuvered off-road. He came to an abrupt stop just off of the main highway, sequestering them in a grove of ancient southern oaks. Dean threw the gear into park, then spun around in his seat.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, staring at Sam with wide eyes.  
  
Sam blinked, pulling away from the radio as the rowdy wail of a guitar solo filled the air. “Filling the awkward silence…what the hell’s the matter with you, Dean?”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong,” Dean answered, too quickly. “I just…”  
  
Sam lifted a brow. “Dean, if you want to talk about something…”  
  
“Look, don’t get all girly on me,” Dean growled, slumping into the seat and closing his eyes. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sam. I don’t need to hash it out with you over ice cream and bon bons.”  
  
“Well, then it’s a good thing we’re out of both,” Sam returned sarcastically, beyond fed up with his brother’s recent attitude. After little success in South Carolina, and what with Dean remaining uncharacteristically mum, they’d started the journey to another destination where an obscurely documented case provided possible evidence that the demon had been visiting. Of course, the greatest proof was at Sam’s fingertips, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that until Dean let go of whatever was bothering him.  
  
For God’s sake, the guy had spent his entire life hunting down the paranormal, and now a single encounter had sealed his lips better than duct tape. It was so fucking hypocritical of Dean to be this way when he’d done nothing but pressure Sam into anything and everything since reappearing in his life a few months ago…  
  
He sobered as Dean finally turned to him, expression drawn and haunted, and Sam’s voice softened a degree. “Dean, what is it?” he wondered, his tone conveying the full wealth of frustration and impotence that he felt for the situation.  
  
Dean licked his lips, turning his head slowly to stare out the windshield. His voice was numb, but Sam couldn’t miss the layer of slick fear coating it. “I think it’s inside me, Sam. I…I can’t fight it. I’m trying, but…” He broke off, burying his face in his hands as he sank lower into the seat. “Jesus Christ…it’s like I’m burning alive.”  
  
Sam sat up straight, eyes locked on Dean’s still figure. “That can’t be,” he tried to sound reassuring, but inwardly his mind was spinning with possibilities. And guilt. As always, he focused on the first and tried to ignore the second. “Dean, it can only be inside of you for short periods at a time, when you’re unconscious. That’s the only way it can have the strength to—”  
  
“Do I look unconscious to you?” Dean snapped, dropping his hands and piercing Sam with a hot glare. “And it _is_ inside me, Sam. Make a change in your textbooks, delete your internet files, what-fucking-ever…because none of it’s right.”  
  
“We just need to check a few things, see what—”  
  
“No!” Dean cried, startling Sam.   
  
The stereo fried in a burst of crackles and sparks, and Sam’s gaze moved from it back to his brother. He stared at Dean in a new light, heart thundering in his ears as he noted the change in Dean’s expression.  
  
“Listen to me,” Dean said slowly, quietly, eyes burning with an intensity that unnerved Sam. “And don’t make me fucking repeat this, because I don’t…know…if I can.” He sucked in a deep breath, then blurted out, “It wants you, Sam. And it’s going to get to you, through me. By whatever means it has to use. And I mean _any_ means. Do you understand me?”  
  
Sam could only stare in absolute bafflement. He found that he didn’t quite have the words to respond, so he settled for the slightest nod of his head, which seemed to placate Dean. His brother’s features tightened into a grimace, and then he relaxed.  
  
“It’s…getting worse,” he admitted huskily. “We need to get out of here. Now.”  
  
“Tell me what to do.” It wasn’t often that he needed to ask, or would, but Sam finally understood the importance of the situation as sweat began to pool at Dean’s temples. His brother’s skin was flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded and slumberous. The entire package had an effect on Sam that he wasn’t ready to put a name to.  
  
“Take the keys,” Dean managed around what sounded like a moan to Sam’s ears. He wasted no time in throwing open the door, sprinting through the cool night air to Dean’s side as his brother collapsed against the wheel.  
  
“Dean?” he called, fear clutching his chest as he reached the driver’s side. “Dean!” He fell to his knees, catching Dean’s body as he slid out of the Impala. Cradling his brother’s head in his lap, he stared down into Dean’s tortured expression with alarm. Dean’s eyes focused on Sam’s face, and Sam opened his mouth to speak.  
  
“T-Touch me,” Dean begged, in a voice that was deep and gravelly and what Sam imagined he probably sounded like after a bout of hard-fucking. “Sammy…please…”  
  
There was no mistaking his meaning, and Sam watched in mingled horror and absorption as Dean sat up and began clawing at his clothes. Sam scrambled back a few feet, unable to reconcile what was happening as Dean’s shirt flew through the air, followed by his shoes. Sam’s eyes grew wide when Dean’s fingers frantically began tearing at the waist of his jeans, and he crawled an inch forward, causing Dean’s glazed eyes to jerk up and focus on him.  
  
Sam froze, hand outstretched in the illumination of the headlights. “Dean,” he started slowly, “look at me. It’s Sam. Sammy?”  
  
“I know who you are, asshole.” Dean’s words were elongated and thick, and gave Sam an odd jolt. “Listen up, Sam. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t even want to.”  
  
“Dean, you have to fight it,” Sam hissed, backing away as Dean crawled toward him. He fell onto his ass, scrambling backward and adding, “Dean, _listen_ to my voice. Ignore whatever’s inside you.”  
  
“I can’t,” Dean growled helplessly. “I…should have told you…earlier, Sam.” He swallowed, forehead shining with perspiration. “It’s powerful. More than a lot we’ve come up against. I—” He broke off on a tortured cry as pain racked his body.  
  
Sam’s eyes followed his jerky movements, his throat growing dry. “This is all my fault,” he whispered hoarsely. “I did something wrong. I…we weren’t prepared, I should have—”  
  
“Fuck, Sam! Now’s not the time to play the martyr,” Dean muttered through his teeth. He swallowed, shaking his head as his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “I agreed to do this, okay? It’s not your…oh, Christ, that hurts.”  
  
“What hurts?” Sam immediately questioned, prepared to search his brother for wounds. “Show me.”  
  
Dean managed a hysterical laugh. “You just don’t get it, do you?” Then, “You’re gonna have to get away from me.”  
  
“Hell no!” Sam replied angrily, hands curling into fists. After his mom…after _Jessica_ , he’d sworn that being helpless wouldn’t be a word in his repertoire ever again. And yet here he sat, flat on his ass watching some demon _he’d_ conjured up torture his brother mercilessly.  
  
“Then stuff me in the trunk, and get me somewhere else. Now.”  
  
Sam gaped at Dean. “The trunk? Are you out of your mind? You’d suffocate in forty—”  
  
“I’m not interested in your statistics right now…”  
  
“I’m not going to—”  
  
“ _Put me in the goddamn trunk or fuck me, Sam!_ ” Dean’s voice was thunderous, and a surge started in the air as the words echoed in Sam’s ears.   
  
Dean continued kneeling on the hard ground, one palm splayed out flat as his shoulders shook with the effort it took to keep from hurling himself across the few feet that separated the two. Sam could only stare at his half-crazed sibling; his tongue thick and heavy, his normally able brain fuzzy and slow.  
  
“None of this is you, Dean,” Sam managed hoarsely, finally. He met Dean’s gaze, and struggled not to react to the pure, unadulterated desire shimmering in Dean’s eyes. Nevertheless, a sick sort of anticipation skittered up his spine, shame directly on its heels.  
  
Dean’s eyes continued to shine brightly, almost otherworldly in the night. “Oh, but it is, _Sammy_. It’s me in the rawest form. Is that too much for you to handle? We haven’t even gotten started yet.”  
  
It wasn’t a slow transformation, but quick and mercurial. If Sam had blinked, he might have missed it. As it was, there was no denying that Dean was no longer the being in control. Its teeth bared, and Sam slowly backed away, worrying that any sudden movements could antagonize the demon to attack.   
  
“Should I tell you all of the ways I’ve imagined you fucking me?” it continued in Dean’s voice, rich with a powerful hunger that Sam found hard to resist on a supernatural and earthly level. His muscles clenched, and his actions became jerkier as the creature continued to speak. “Your hands on my skin, your mouth on my di—”  
  
“Stop,” Sam snapped, holding shaky hands up to his ears, barely resisting from reaching over to throttle Dean. Or otherwise. Christ…he didn’t know anymore. “Shut up!”  
  
“I’ll make you beg me.” The words were spoken like an omen, and Sam froze as Dean’s eyes dilated to full black, lending the final demonic attribute.  
  
“Who are you?” Sam demanded, blood pounding in his ears. He fought to keep his expression neutral, realizing that what the creature sought was emotion of any kind on his part. _The better to feed off you with,_ he thought wildly. “What do you want with Dean, for God’s sake? He doesn’t have what you need…believe me. Emotion’s not his forte.”  
  
“You have no idea what I need.”  
  
Sam schooled his features into a sneer, raking a derisive stare over Dean’s body. “Obviously.”  
  
“You’re not satisfied with this form?” the demon questioned silkily, and Sam flinched when Dean’s skin rippled, as if something was fighting to break free within. “Shall I dispose of this…inferior shell?”  
  
Sam gritted his teeth, knowing fully well that the demon was taunting him. To what purpose was still unknown, but he couldn’t risk pissing this thing off before he figured out how it ticked. “No, goddamnit,” he hissed, fingers itching for action. “Just…what do you want?”  
  
Dean’s lips curled back over his teeth, more of a grimace than a smile. “Let me show you,” he whispered, then lurched for Sam. Sam barely managed to evade his grasp, clambering away at the last possible second. The creature inside of Dean grabbed Sam’s ankle, yanking him across the ground as Sam clawed at the dirt in front of him.  
  
A sudden bolt of seemingly electrical energy coursed through him, locking his joints as he fell with a thud to the ground. Almost instantly, everything went black, then fizzled out to smoky, gray overtones. Sam’s lids fluttered and he found himself lying alone on the cold ground.  
  
He sat up, wincing from the scratches along his forearms, but ignoring the mild pain in favor of trying to figure out where the _fuck_ he could possibly be now.  
  
It wasn’t Kansas anymore.  
  
“Sam?”  
  
He spun around, fingers curled into claws in preparation to defend himself if necessary. At the sight of Dean’s face, he dropped his hands and stared in wary confusion. “Dean?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, Sammy…” Dean looked around, swallowing hard before he reached forward to drag Sam up by the collar of his shirt, pressing their faces close together. “Whatever you do, don’t let me go.”  
  
“What are you…mmph,” Sam bit back a yelp of surprise when Dean covered his mouth with his hand, muffling the question.  
  
“It’s not what it seems,” Dean managed, hissing in pain and shaking his head as if trying to banish a bad memory. His eyes took on an almost animalistic glint, and he pulled Sam closer. “It’s not…emotion it wants, Sam. We were wrong.”  
  
Sam didn’t bother to deny the statement. “Okay, then what? What do I do?”  
  
“Make it feel…” Dean cut himself off, shoving away from Sam as if he’d been burned. He thrust a hand up between them when Sam would have gone to his brother’s side, his head snapping up to reveal glowing eyes. “Get away from me,” he hissed, no longer Dean. “Or I’ll kill him.”  
  
“Yeah?” Sam asked, not missing a beat despite his racing heart. “I don’t believe you.”  
  
The creature reached out and howled, and Sam found himself splayed out again on the ground. Cool wind kissed his cheeks, and he quickly realized that whatever had just happened was now over. Back to the real world. And he had a demon to exorcise.   
  
Dean crouched a few feet away from him, spitting out unearthly phrases scrambled with Greek and Latin. Sam swallowed, eyeing the thing that had taken over his brother’s mind and body with a sense of feigned detachment.   
  
“All right, let’s do this,” he nodded, rubbing his hands together. He closed his eyes, beginning a Catholic exorcism chant as Dean spat and snarled. He made it a third of the way through the opening prayer when he was knocked from his feet by a supernatural blast. He came up, spitting and brushing away dirt as he stared down the demon in his brother’s body.  
  
“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” it grinned, then flew at Sam with superhuman speed. Sam dodged, but not quickly enough, and found himself beneath Dean as his brother smiled down at him. “Hello, Sam. My, this is awkward, isn’t it?” His eyes strayed to where their pelvises met, and Sam’s gaze narrowed.  
  
“Is that what you want?” Sam blurted out, taking a chance on what Dean had vaguely hinted about in his mind. “For me to fuck you? Does getting off give you what you need? Handy little trick.” He dredged up a grin, hoping like hell that it conveyed amusement and not the mortal fear he was feeling.  
  
Dean’s expression fell, and he sent Sam a searching look. “You couldn’t.”  
  
It was just as Dean had thought. Sam clung to that fact and cocked a brow. “Oh, you have no fucking _idea_.”   
  
With that, he leaped at Dean, managing to knock his brother to the ground. Flipping him over so that his face pressed into the ground, Sam lowered his own and hissed, “What now, asshole? The market’s closed on the Winchesters for the day.”  
  
The demon just laughed, an odd mixture of both Dean’s voice and something _more_. It sent chills down Sam’s spine even as he tightened his grip on his brother’s body. “Do it then.”  
  
Sam paused, torn by the nonchalant tone. Christ, what if Dean was wrong? What if the demon was fooling them both, and getting exactly what it wanted from Dean? From him…  
  
He made a rough sound, shoving Dean harder, blood trickling into his eye from a cut on his forehead. He stared down at his brother’s body, a wave of dizziness threatening to come over him. He shook his head, fighting the lure, but knew it was a lost cause as he began to ease his grip on Dean.   
  
“Do it,” Dean pleaded, panting heavily beneath Sam. He arched into Sam, voice breaking on a howl. “Sammy, _fuck_ … _do it!_ ”  
  
Sam was breathing heavily, as well. Indecision warred with sudden pure lust clouding his brain, and he labored to remember the exact reason why he definitely should _not_ do this. As if of their own volition, his fingers fell to the zipper of his pants, violently tearing the metal teeth apart, and he shoved denim down his legs. One hand moved to hold Dean’s thrashing body against the ground, and his teeth flashed in the darkness. “I shouldn’t,” he managed, swallowing against a thick lump in his throat.  
  
Oh, Jesus, but he _wanted_ to. All the blood drained from his head and went southward, and Sam glanced down to find himself near to bursting.  
  
“Do it, do it, do it,” Dean was chanting nonsensically, flushed and excited. Sam broke out into a cold sweat from the effort of denying what his body was demanding he do, and his legs threatened to buckle as the erotic pull weighted him down.   
  
On a sharp curse, he reached around Dean and found him hot and ready, easily filling his hands as both men released heavy groans of relief. Sam gritted his teeth, jerking Dean’s body up against him, muttering in his ear, “You like that?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Dean hissed in the demon’s voice. “You don’t have the balls, Winchester.”  
  
Sam made a harsh sound, and then came to his feet, bringing Dean with him. He slammed his older brother into the side of his cherished Impala, breath hissing out as Dean groaned in pleasure-edged-pain. He pressed Dean’s cheek up against the metal, bringing their bodies flush together so that his cock rested in the cleft of Dean’s ass. Dean jumped as if burned, wailed like a banshee, and then arched like a cat beneath him.  
  
“Oh, yeah. You like that, you sick son of a bitch?” Sam growled, working his hips against his brother. The heat emanating off of Dean was nearly burning a hole through Sam, but it was too intoxicating to bother resisting. Right and wrong no longer made any difference to Sam; only satisfying the urge mattered.  
  
“Yes,” Dean, and it was definitely _Dean_ , answered around a sharp whimper. His palm opened and closed on the Impala door in tandem with the sinuous thrusts Sam used. “God, Sammy…”  
  
Sam leaned further and caught Dean’s earlobe between his teeth, feeling wild and devilish as a jolt coursed through Dean’s body. “Are we sure about this?” he whispered, hoping like hell he was addressing Dean and not the demon within him. “It’ll change everything, Dean.”  
  
“I’m not sure I could handle it if we don’t,” Dean admitted shakily, shivering as Sam’s lips trailed down his jaw. “I…might lose control of this thing, Sam.”  
  
Sam breathed in the hot musk of Dean’s skin, eyes practically rolling back in his head. “God, I…I just don’t know…what if it doesn’t help?”  
  
“It will.”  
  
“And after?” Sam forced himself to ask, teeth chattering from the effort of holding himself back. His hands were clenched on either side of Dean’s head, white-knuckled. He could feel every nuance of Dean’s naked body against him, calling to him, inviting him in…  
  
“Goddamn, can we worry about the pillow talk later, Sammy?” Dean hissed, bucking against him desperately. “I’m dying here.”  
  
“Dean—”  
  
Dean made a frantic sound, then reached back and grabbed Sam’s ass, forcing him up closer. His words were stilted and edgy, layered with the hot temper that was so typical of Dean. “Fuck. Me Now.”  
  
Sam spat into his hand, quickly using it as a crude lubricant as his pulse thundered in his ears. His eyes glazed over when he pressed forward and began to sink easily, willingly, inside of Dean. Heat exploded around him, in him, and his hands fell to Dean’s hips. His fingers pressed into the indentations with every drive forward, hoarse grunts of gratification spilling forth from his throat.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Dean whimpered, thrusting himself against Sam. “Jesus Christ.” He was panting, heavily, but urged Sam on, curving into every plunge like a cock-hungry whore. “That’s… _ahhh_ …”  
  
“Is this helping?” Sam asked unsteadily, blinking sweat out of his eyes as he shifted on his feet to better penetrate Dean. He grabbed Dean’s thigh, lifting it slightly and resting it on his own. “Talk to me.”  
  
“Good…Sammy…deeper,” Dean murmured, dropping his head against the Impala in helpless abandon. His skin was slick, his voice ragged and slurred. Dreamy. “A-All the way in.”  
  
Sam muttered an oath, biting back a massive groan as he complied, pushing through the last remaining inches. His mouth fell open on a strangled cry, and he held absolutely still. “Dean, we have a problem,” he managed, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. “I’m fucking…I’m close, man.”  
  
Dean’s answer was a weak moan, and he moved his hips, trying to get Sam to start moving again. Sam’s head fell back, his fingers squeezing Dean’s waist.  
  
“You’re too…hot,” Sam tried to explain, frustrated and horny. “Where are you at?”  
  
“Oh, God. I need more t-time…” Dean’s expression contorted, his anguished cry piercing the air as his knees buckled, nearly causing Sam to slip out of him. His head snapped up, and he threw Sam a snarling look over his shoulder.  
  
The demon was back, and obviously not happy to find Sam Winchester fucking it.   
  
A stream of jumbled Latin again spewed from Dean’s lips, and Sam caught the general gist of the deadly threats. It gave him momentary pause, but Dean’s earlier words overrode his concern and he set his jaw, determined to see this freak-fest through. They’d deal with the aftermath, after.  
  
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Sam tossed out angrily, using that rage to control himself as he drove into Dean again and again. “For me to make you feel ‘fucking good’?” He quoted the demon from Dean’s dreams, punctuating every word with a deep stab. “You won’t take him again, you bastard.”  
  
“You’re the only one taking him,” the demon leered, but it was obviously in pain as Sam’s thrusts lengthened.   
  
Sam noted it with a sense of satisfaction. “Yeah. You can’t handle the truth, can you bitch?” he muttered, every muscle in his neck straining. “Dean was right, wasn’t he? You can feed off emotion, off of feelings, but you can’t actually experience them. Well…feel _this_.”  
  
He sank his teeth into Dean’s neck at the precise moment he drove himself fully inside, a hand snaking forward to tug Dean’s balls to the point the demon shrieked in terror, going ramrod stiff as Sam’s cock pulsed. The wind suddenly kicked up, sending piles of dead leaves skittering about the Impala. The air was rich with the demon’s keening, a dull ache in Sam’s ears that he chose to ignore.  
  
His eyes closed, and he shouted through the whistling winds, “You can’t have him!”  
  
_Only me, asshole._  
  
At the apex of the demon’s suffering, he let himself succumb to the erotic rhythm, his pace turning frenzied, and he came on a hoarse bellow, pulling himself from Dean and collapsing on the ground. The moment his forehead made contact, Dean froze, and then crumpled to the ground as well. The animalistic howls stopped, the winds died, and Sam found himself staring into Dean’s lifeless eyes.  
  
“Dean!” he yelled, spitting dirt from his mouth and struggling to sit up. Exhaustion overwhelmed, and he was forced to crawl across the ground to where Dean’s body laid.   
  
Tears stung Sam’s eyes as he reached Dean’s side, grabbing hold of his limp body and dragging it up. “Wake up, you son of a…” He trailed off, choking on a sob as Dean’s head lolled to the side. Sam shook him, fighting against feelings of self-disgust and nausea as he realized that he might have just killed his brother, after all.  
  
“Oh God, Dean, I told you it wasn’t going to work…” he murmured, dropping his head onto Dean’s naked shoulder. “This is all my fault…I should have…I…oh, God…”  
  
“Don’t you ever…shut the fuck up,” Dean’s weary voice sounded, and Sam stiffened. Slowly he pulled back to find Dean scowling at him, lines of fatigue shadowing beneath his eyes. “Dude, a bush is poking me in the ass.”  
  
Sam’s mouth worked, but all that came out was a hoarse chuckle. “You… _fucker_ ,” he managed, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders. His eyes moved over Dean’s face, taking in the almost pouty expression, and all of Sam’s anger and frustration and goddamn _fear_ coalesced into one, and he took Dean’s face between his hands. He barely registered his brother’s startled features before crashing his mouth against Dean’s.  
  
The kiss was short and punishing, and Sam broke away panting. He vibrated like a plucked string, and within seconds he had Dean on his hands and knees, towering over him as his heart beat a rapid tattoo in his breast. He played with Dean’s balls, relishing the spastic jerks Dean made as he surrendered.  
  
Sam licked his palm, dropping it between Dean’s legs. His free hand worked his cock, and his hips moved aggressively. Wanting more.   
  
“I’m going to fucking kill you myself,” he muttered, unsure as to whether he was joking or not.   
  
“That’s not what this feels like,” Dean replied wryly, almost challengingly. His head dropped, and he offered himself up to Sam with characteristic crudeness. He shot a look over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded and drowsy with lust. Sam found that, demon or no demon, he wasn’t immune.  
  
“Just wait.” Sam gritted his teeth, hands resting on the small of Dean’s back as he pressed forward. This time he was unhurried, allowing himself to enjoy the full impact being inside of Dean had to offer. The way his flesh squeezed. And burned.   
  
Dean egged him on with grunts and groans, demands and pleas of encouragement. In the end, despite Sam’s best efforts otherwise, it was over really fast. Both rolled over, gasping for breath as the full weight of the situation dawned like a brand new day.   
  
“I thought you were going to die,” Sam choked out, covering his eyes with his arm. “Oh, God, Dean. What’ve we done?”  
  
Dean glanced over, fleetingly meeting Sam’s gaze before turning back to the starry sky. “Nobody died, Sam. Don’t let it get to you.”  
  
“I just raped a demon,” Sam answered hollowly. He sat up, watching Dean mirror his movements out of the corner of his eye. He dropped his arms over his knees, and then lifted his eyes to Dean’s. “And you.”  
  
“Oh, Sam,” Dean sighed wearily. Faint lines etched his handsome face as he hung his head between his shoulders. “The only one who was raped, was you. I’m so sorry.”  
  
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam demanded, angry that Dean would try to take the blame after what happened. Knowing he would have, anyway.  
  
“What happened…between us,” Dean began, licking his dry lips. “You didn’t rape me, Sam. Trust me on that.” He sounded sad, lost. Confused. It made something inside of Sam ache, and he turned toward his brother with a question burning in his gaze.  
  
“That demon couldn’t plant feelings inside of you, Dean. It had to be something you already felt…buried, or not.” He waited for the small nod that cemented what he’d begun to suspect all along. “Jesus Christ…why didn’t you ever…”  
  
“What?” Dean mocked softly. “Say something? Anyway, I’ll deal with it.”  
  
“And if it happens again?”  
  
Dean snorted, pushing himself to his feet as he began the search for his clothes. “Yeah, fucking right.”  
  
Sam watched him in silent understanding, noting the tension that coiled Dean’s muscles tight. He waited until his brother had yanked his pants up his legs, head bent in overdone concentration as he fastened the zipper. Then he stood up, walking over to face Dean’s back. “And if it happens again?” he repeated, meaningfully, watching Dean stiffen in realization.  
  
He turned around, eyeing Sam curiously. His hair stuck up every which way, and dirt streaked across nearly ever bare inch of his body, but Sam felt the familiar stirring again and bit back a curse. Whatever Dean saw made his lips curve, and he took a step closer, bringing himself within inches of Sam.  
  
Flicking his gaze up and down Sam’s body, and then meeting his eyes with equal meaning, he murmured, “We’ll deal with it.”  
  
Sam guessed they would, and followed Dean toward the Impala, collecting clothes along the way.


End file.
